


Homebound

by CultMother



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Mystery, Past Relationship(s), Rebuilding, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 03:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30116724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CultMother/pseuds/CultMother
Summary: Eight years have passed since Marinette Dupain-Cheng left France. Eight years since she dropped the role of Ladybug. Haunted by the past, but determined to reclaim her life in Paris, Marinette is now homebound.This fic is going to have a slow build-up and reveal.**
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Kudos: 9





	Homebound

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting a new story in a long while. Tell me about what you think, please! I'd love to hear feedback of any kind and measure interest in the story.

A lock of hair tucked behind my ear. My blouse, straightened. I would keep my posture acceptable. As I walked through the glass sliding doors of the airport, cameras flashed in my direction, a cacophony of patterns that blinded my field of vision. “Marinette Dupain-cheng! You became a world-famous fashion designer, and you’re still so young. Please, fill us in on how you got to where you are today.” My eyes moved to the hairstyle, first. It was familiar, yet distant. Had I babysat this reporter’s young child? No… that would be too much of a coincidence. I didn’t respond, my bodyguard stepping in between the ravenous reporter and myself.

The car door opened and from all of the noise and clamour came silence as the door shut when I sat down on the cushioned seats. I swept my hair over my shoulder with one smooth, solid movement. It was longer than it had been in highschool; I never put it up anymore. It would have reminded me of what I lost. Of the people that I’d harmed. Being Ladybug… was my greatest curse. My hand dipped into my bag, pulling out the locked jewellery box I carried with me everywhere. Being in Paris- no, France itself- for the first time in eight years was bound to make me emotional.

Stuffing the box back into my bag, I pulled out my phone, switching to my contact list. Two contacts. Mom, and dad. A big difference from when I was in high-school. It used to be full of people to call. People who I knew, people who gladly supported me when I needed their help. After changing my phone, I lost all of their numbers. I couldn’t bring myself to try and call them again. 

The buildings passing by in my field of vision were new and different. Some were old, shells of their former selves. Some held cobwebs, intricately detailed patterns never-disturbed by those who would dare to enter the buildings left abandoned. And in my field of view, I saw memories. These memories were heavy in weight, to the point where I felt as if I could barely cope with how much they pressed down into my mind, leaving an impression. I exhaled, hoping that with a new breath, so too came a new chance at life- where I would perhaps be able to escape facing the past. 

As the car stopped, I recognized it- my old home. I would nod to the driver. The bodyguard. This was as far as they went. From now on, I was in the care of Artistique, my brand. The offices were still being remodelled in downtown Paris. For now, my parent’s home, the bakery, would be my base of operations.

Opening the door, the bell rang out and my mother- as wonderful of a woman she was- immediately threw herself into my arms. “Marinette!” She cried. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, you’ve grown up so much! Oh, did you get the gifts I sent you every year?” She was happy to see me. My father, on the other hand, stood back a little. A bit lost, if anything. He didn’t know if things between us were the same, after the way I left. What I did. Maybe it just needed a bit of fixing. It wasn’t ideal, what had happened- but, maybe now I could finally move forward.

I opened my arms, enough space to let my dad in. “It’s not a homecoming without a hug from both my dad and mom, dad.” His face changed from uncertain to lit with excitement. He would rush toward us, grabbing us both and wrapping us in this comfortable bear hug- and for once, I felt okay again. I had forgotten the feel of my parents embracing me. It had been so long that I was worried that they wouldn’t. And when they did, I realized that, maybe- coming back to Paris wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe I had a future here. Maybe I could remake my life. Not as it had been, but… perhaps with just a  _ little  _ more added to the mix.

Maybe I can finally move on, and stop thinking about what I did.


End file.
